milliways_bar | (no subject)

Meg and Amy are sitting at a table, surrounded by piles of large gingerbread cookies. Some of the cookies are a little burned, some are quite underbaked, and some (and Lord only knows how they managed this) are both. The cookies are rather improbably shaped like rolling pins, tea kettles, toasters, frying pans, and egg beaters.

Amy has an icing tube and is very neatly writing with bright pink icing (which smells alarming like grapefruit) on each cookie:

Meg & Amy Cordully Invite You
To Keep Us From Cooking
Satourday, In The Kitchen

She's then handing the cookies to Meg, who has a bowl of lime green glitter, with which she is festooning each one, for that certain je ne sais quoi.

Derry is also decorated (though not so neatly) with pink icing and green glitter, and is sitting under the table, chattering happily to Simon Perryvall and Mr. Pemberthy. This may or may not have something to do with taking over the world.

Come say hello. You know you want to know what's going on.

[OOC: Tagging will most likely get you two very cheerful girls and a barely edible invitation to a party to be slowtimed this weekend. If you know either Meg or Amy, assume you're invited, but come say hello anyway. If you don't, well, this is a perfect time to meet them.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

*Meg has no doubts about River's capability to read things upside down.*

I think one or two of the words may be mispelled, *she says, a little sheepishly: she's nearly certain 'cordially' is only spelled with one l.*

"Two," River says absently.

"Prime number. It's unique. The only even one."

Beat.

Small smile at Meg and Amy. "It smells like fruit."

Amy nods. "We used grapefruit. For the frosting."

It made absolutely perfect sense at the time.

Sort of.

It makes sense to River.

This should maybe be worrying.

She looks cheerful, though.

She dips a finger carefully in the still-soft icing and sucks on it. The cookie now reads "in the Kitc" and then a pink smear.

*Meg looks more than a little proud.*

- see, I told you the grapefruit would work, Amy - just don't bite the actual cookie, *she adds, a little hastily,* I don't want your brother coming after me.

- and don't forget where it is, either. *She grins.*

River blinks at her.

"In my hand," she reminds Meg, who seems to have lost track of this.

"I think she meant the party," says Amy, helpfully. "We're having our party in the kitchen, and the cookie in your hand is the invitation."

Beat.

"I know," she assures Amy, as if this was clear all along.

"There won't be refreshments."

*Meg glances to both sides of the table, and then says, with a conspiratorial grin:* - well, there might be.

It just won't be us making them. 'cause. I mean. What better way is there to stop us from using the kitchen than letting someone else do it?

River reflects on that.

"Doors work," she suggests. "Turn the lock."

She's smiling, though, small and just as conspiratorial.

"Well, yes," says Amy. "But that's not nearly as much fun."

She looks at River.

"Do you know how to cook?"

Shifty.

"Sometimes."

There's a ship rule that she has to be supervised when making anything more complicated than tea. Crazy girls plus heat sources and knives are, weirdly, deemed to be maybe a bit dangerous.

Well, *Meg says, comfortably,* you've still got to be better at it than us.

. . . also, it's kind of fun watching other people cook, *she adds, seriously.* You can heckle.

River never does that.

Ever.

You can tell by her mischievous half-hidden grin.

"You could be our official opinion-giver," says Amy, cheerfully. "On the things other people make."

River shakes her head.

"By consensus," she explains, earnestly. "It's fair."

Also, that way everybody gets to try the cookies.

As long as there's someone out there who likes something, *Meg agrees, cheerfully,* it's worth making.

. . . and, you know, Anthy will be there, which could provide hope for some of the less-popular dishes.

River brightens.

"Anthy can help."

Ahahahahaha River. How little you know.

"Help with what?" asks Amy, who doesn't know Anthy and has just become a little confused.

Cooking is kind of a hobby of Anthy's, *Meg explains, for Amy's benefit.*

- which means we shouldn't have curry ingredients there, but other than that, she'll have a lot of fun, I think, *she adds, with a grin for River.*

Oh, this is a bad plan.

River beams.

"Oh, well, then of course she should help," says Amy, blissfully unaware of any number of things.

And then.

"What's wrong with curry?"

"Spicy," River hazards.

"Heartburn is a danger."

. . . that, *Meg says, more than a little apologetically,* and it switches people's personalities.

Which, is entertaining, I guess, but - awkward. Er.

River looks highly dubious.

"It's food," she explains, in case Meg has gotten confused about this.

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